If Ever There Were Love in the World, I Love Him
by Janus Em
Summary: This story takes place immediately following episode 8x23. Castiel is separated from Dean and must find his way back to the bunker without his grace while Dean waits impatiently not knowing what's happened to his angel. During their separation, both men come to terms with their true feelings for the other.


If Ever There Were Love in the World, I Love **_Him_**

Up in the nighttime sky, Castiel could see the angels descend from heaven in a cascade of light and fire. The cold air and wind whipped around him as he ran forward to get a fix on where he was. From the position of the stars above, the terrain and the flora surrounding him, he calculated his position to be somewhere on the west end of North America, perhaps California. As he moved into a clearing free of trees and shrubbery, he saw that he was in the outskirts of a city park. There was a visitors' center at its edge, closed now of course, but at least there would be some sort of signage telling here where he was. He made his way toward it in the dark, looking from the sky above him as the angels continued their descent back to the ground below him making his way toward one of the cement walkways of the park. He followed it until he reached the main building of the visitors' center. The signs posted around it told him he was in the Chino Hills State Park of California.

There was a highway along the parking lot and entrance of the park. He moved around the patio of the visitors' center looking for a corner out of view of the street to sit quietly, perhaps sleep and wait for the morning. The angels continued to fall, one just beyond the hills from the park where he nestled himself against the small building out of sight of the highway. He kept watching the night sky as the last of the angels fell to the earth.

He rested against the building pulling his overcoat tightly around his body to conserve the warmth of it. It was then that aside from the physical sensations that bombarded him, he became inundated by the emotions that came flooding over him. He sifted through them trying to figure out what it was they all were. Feelings of guilt, fear, and loss pulsed through his being too intense for him to ignore or suppress. He knew that the vessel he possessed always experienced these disturbing emotions, but they were always filtered by his grace. To experience them in their entirety threatened to incapacitate him. Then a single thought made its way to the forefront of the turbulent wave of emotions. Dean. He shuddered at the thought of Dean's reaction to his latest fiasco.

He remembered the night when Dean found him on the road, wounded from Crowley's bullet, and how relieved Dean seemed to be to find him. How he helped Castiel into an empty room in the bunker, gently placed him on the bed concerned for his well being, only to face Dean's hostile anger the next morning. Then the angry bitter way Dean told him that they didn't need his help. The words had hurt then, but were now torturing him. Castiel was suddenly aware that his head throbbed, he was congested, and there was water leaking heavily from his eyes.

He was crying. Crying in fear that Dean would never forgive him, never let him back into his good graces. Gradually it became all too clear what Dean meant to him. What it meant to have Dean's approval and acceptance. How much he wanted to be with Dean at that moment, how horribly he missed him. He thought about how safe and content he felt when Dean was with him. More tears flowed down his cheeks as he yearned for the comfort Dean brought him. He always knew he and Dean shared a profound bond, that there were things he did for Dean that he would never do for any other human being, or even any other angel. He realized through his tears, hopefully not too late, that the profound bond the two shared was in reality love. He truly loved Dean.

-x-

Dean tried pulling Sam from the passenger's side of the Impala, but Sam only put up his hands resisting his brother's help, "I'm good. I'm good. Take care of Crowley."

Reluctantly, Dean obliged and immediately opened the door behind Sam's side of the car to grab the demon. When Crowley too resisted, Dean pulled him violently by his jacket hitting the demon's head against the car doorframe. Crowley pushed Dean back and cried, "You great lummox."

Crowley rubbed the spot where his head banged against the car with his cuffed hands and quietly added, "I don't need your help."

Dean turned his attention back to Sam making sure he got of the car. To his dismay, Sam propped himself against the hood of the Impala using it as support to make his way toward the doorway of the bunker. Dean pushed at Crowley's back as they moved around the back of the Impala. The bunker door flew open with Kevin rushing out of it.

"Guys! What's happening? What's falling from the sky? Everything's going crazy, all the alarms…" Kevin stopped when he realized Crowley was with them making his way toward the bunker bound in the demonic chains they had taken with them. Kevin sneered at Crowley and charged at him. Dean slid over the back of the Impala to jump between the demon and the prophet.

Dean pushed Kevin back from Crowley, but he already had a hold of the iron collar around the demon's neck throttling him back and forth with it.

"You evil son of a bitch! I'll kill you!" Kevin cried out struggling to get both hands on the demon. Dean managed to pull Kevin back slapping his arm off the Demon. Crowley pushed himself away from the two of them and when Dean freed him from the throttling, he fell to ground. He moved his body edging further from Dean and the volatile Kevin to rest with his back against the Impala. Sam tried to make his way around the hood of the car, but barely managed to keep himself from falling onto the ground beside the demon. Crowley wrestled with his bindings first glancing at the ground then back to Dean and Kevin with an expression Dean could only characterize as guilt. He fought against Kevin still thrashing to get past him to reach Crowley.

"He deserves to die!" Kevin screamed, his eyes tearing up, "He killed my mother!"

"Back off, Kevin!" Dean warned the angry young man.

"She's still alive," Crowley said just above a whisper, but loud enough for Kevin and the Winchesters to hear him.

Dean could feel Kevin's feet give out as the young man fell against his chest his violent scrambling reduced to stunned whimpering. He managed to pull away from Dean and ask, "What did you say?"

"Your mother, charming lady that she is, is still alive," Crowley admitted.

"You're lying. You're trying to save your own damn hide," Dean accused keeping his forearm pressed against Kevin's chest.

"No, I'm not," Crowley looked up at the three men around him. "We let her go, but kept tabs on her. She was to be our ace in hole, our fail safe. If the prophet were to escape, we knew he'd go in search of dear old mum. We laid enough bread crumbs to ensure that even you nitwits find her. Once you did, we'd pinch him faster than you can say 'angel tablet'."

Dean gave the demon's thigh a solid kick, "What else?"

Crowley bellowed, "What is it with you and the hitting? Always with the hitting."

"What else?" Dean threatened again.

"She's living in Orlando under the name Michelle Yeoh."

"Michelle Yeoh? Seriously?" Sam asked skeptically.

Crowley nodded in affirmation.

"See there? Look how much easier it is when you play nice." Dean bent over and pulled the demon up by his lapels, "Now get your ass up and inside."

Dean indicated for Kevin to help Sam then grabbed Crowley by the back of his iron collar and led him into the bunker. Kevin did the best he could to help Sam and his large frame move down the bunker stairwell and off in the direction of the dormitories. Dean waited making sure they entered Sam's room then forcefully pushed Crowley in the direction of room 7B and the dungeon.

Moments later Crowley glared up at Dean from where his chair was positioned upon the devil's trap scored into the concrete floor, "What do you plan on doing with me?"

"If it were up to me, we would've left your corpse on the floor of that church," Dean said as he pulled out Ruby's knife from where he kept it hidden in his jacket.

"I'm the King of Hell, that knife…"

"You were the King of Hell, now you're not even a punk ass crossroads demon. I'm sure this will be more than enough to put you out of your misery," Dean couldn't help but say with a malicious smile.

"Well then," Crowley said leaning back into the chair the demonic chains bound him to, "I'm glad it's not up to you."

Dean let out a slight huff then walked out the room locking the door behind. He quickly made his way to Sam's room. Kevin stood at the foot of Sam's bed as Sam drifted off to sleep. Dean gave Kevin an impatient inquiring stare.

"He used the bathroom then said he just needed to sleep," Kevin looked from Sam back to Dean.

Satisfied that Sam was comfortably resting and that no more could be done at the moment, he turned to Kevin, "Keep an eye on him. Wait here until I get back."

"Where're you going?" Kevin asked watching Dean leave the room.

"Just wait," Dean ordered.

Dean rushed back toward the metal staircase that led to the bunker entrance and outside to watch the last of the angels descending from heaven. There was so much going through his head. The dread that Sammy was too sick to recover, the angels falling to earth and what that might bring along with it, and the former King of Hell stewing in their dungeon. Even so at that moment as the last streak of light and fire fell somewhere off in the distance, Dean thought of Cas. Was Cas somewhere out there too? If he completed the trials, was he too pushed out of heaven along with the other angels, or was he locked away behind its doors with Metatron?

It was hard to know what was really happening to the angels. He wondered if they retained all, part, or none of their grace. The anger and violence at their expulsion from heaven would surely be something he and the others would have to contend with. Dozens of questions raced through Dean's mind. Why had it happened? Which of the angels lied to them? Naomi or Metatron? And Cas, where the hell was he?

-x-

The next morning his body was stiff and achy. His first attempt to stand had him pausing leaning against the cinderblock side of the building to steadily pull himself up. Along with the aches of his back, head, and legs came another upsetting emotion. Frightening isolation. He was completely alone with nothing. He walked out of the park through the parking lot and onto the two-lane highway. There was no area for pedestrians, so he walked along the highway's edge.

After walking an hour, Castiel could feel his feet blistering in the stiff fitting shoes. Another car honked zipping past him along the narrow road. His aching feet begged him to rest, but he knew it was entirely too early do so. Walking was something he would have to build stamina for, as for now, there was no other option but to walk. He tried to move over at the honking of another horn. But it persisted. Castiel turned back to see a small white truck filled with gardening supplies and tools pull up next to him.

"Hey Buddy," a man called from the driver's seat, "What the hell are you doing? You can't walk down this street. You'll get yourself killed. There's no sidewalk until you get to the bottom of the canyon." He motioned for Castiel to get into the truck as he pushed the passenger door open, "Come on. I'll give you a lift."

Surprised, but quick to respond, Castiel took the man up on his offer and slid onto the passenger's seat closing the door behind him, "Thank you. Your assistance is greatly appreciated."

"Sure. No, problem." The man looked at Castiel, "What were you doing out there?"

Castiel thought for a moment, "I… uh… My car no longer functions. There must have been something faulty with its engine. However, I must keep travelling east. It is imperative that I reach Kansas."

"Kansas?" The man smiled at him, "That's quite a ways. I can take you down the canyon and as far as Chino. That's where I'm headed. I can drop you off in the center of town."

Castiel tried to smile back at the man, "That will do."

As the small truck continued on its way down the canyon road, the man turned on the radio. Music quietly filled the cabin of the truck and Castiel felt a great sense of relief that he could understand every word the woman on the radio sang in Spanish. It seemed that his intelligence and all the things he knew as an angel had been retained by his vessel's brain, by his brain.

"What's in Kansas?" The man asked him keeping his eyes on the road.

Castiel thought how to answer the man, what would be appropriate to tell him then answered, "My family."

The man quickly looked at him again, "You really do look lost. Does your family know you need help?"

Castiel shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He didn't like lying to the man next to him who seemed so kind and willing to help him. However, the truth was out of the question. He turned to the man and said, "I have not been able to communicate with them. I no longer own a phone."

The man reached in his pocket, accessed his phone then handed it to Castiel, "Go ahead. I have free long distance." Castiel didn't understand what the man meant by "long distance," but he felt a great sense of relief and gratitude toward him as took hold of the phone. His relief quickly turned to frustration as each of the numbers he remembered using to dial either Sam or Dean were no longer "in service" or answered by a stranger who knew neither Sam nor Dean. He reluctantly handed the phone back to the man.

"No luck, huh?" The man asked.

"Unfortunately, not," Castiel answered the man but kept his eyes in front of him.

They drove on for another twenty minutes until the man pulled into a shopping center. He looked over to Castiel with a worried look, "I hate to just drop you off like this. Is there anything I can do?"

Castiel thought for a moment before leaving the truck. Unless the man was willing to drive him all the way to Kansas there was little else he could do. He hated to ask the man for money, but he knew he had none and would need to start collecting it if he wished to get to Kansas. He hesitated, but finally said to the man, "You have already been generous and I hate to further trouble you, but I have no money and…"

"It's ok," the man said before Castiel could finish. "We've all needed help at one time or another."

The man opened his wallet taking out a number of bills in different denominations, "Sixteen dollars. It isn't much, but you're welcome to it."

Castiel thanked the man over and over again before the man drove off looking back with a wave. He saw the signs indicating another highway running east and west. But instead of following it, he walked along the street that paralleled it. Once again he was immediately aware of the blisters on his feet and now a great hunger doubling over in his empty stomach. It was vastly different from the hunger he experienced when facing Famine. That hunger was wanton, fueled by a different need, by excess. The hunger he felt now was painful and distracting. He knew he needed to eat, but he also knew the money he was given wouldn't last long. There was no other choice but to ignore the hunger for now and continue on for as long as he could.

-x-

Dean stood before one of the bookshelves in the Men of Letters bunker library looking at various titles along the books' spines. He pulled out a book from the literature section, a well-known book even he'd heard of, was supposed to have read in high school but never did. Somehow the book in his hand about sacrifice and brotherhood in uncertain times seemed more than appropriate to read now. Especially now, since he had nothing better to do but wait.

It pained and worried him to no end how useless he felt while doing it, but really all they could do was wait. Wait not only for Sammy to heal, but to hear something from either Garth or Charlie. Garth used his network of hunters to put out an APB on both Cas and Mrs. Tran. Dean trusted that Garth would be the one to ferret out Mrs. Tran following their lead from Crowley, but their best bet at finding Cas was Charlie and her mind-boggling hacking skills. He hoped that her ability to tap into the various security systems in their Big Brother society would help them find Cas. Assuming of course that it was Metatron who cast out the angels, and that Cas too had fallen, which Dean made clear was the assumption they would all make until proven incorrect.

From what they could gather from the ancient computers of the bunker, angels had fallen across the globe on nearly every continent. For computers systems over fifty years old, their accuracy and reliability was to be admired. The falling of angels and its worldwide phenomenon was then confirmed by watching the news channels. The media explained the falling as a rare type of meteor shower. Early reports coming into Garth told that the fallen angels had retained most of their mojo, but the extent of those powers was uncertain. Any angel encountered by a hunter, quickly disappeared. Dean remembered that teleporting was also one of the powers Cas retained during the time he was cut off from heaven. Undoubtedly in the wake of their expulsion, the angels were falling back and regrouping. The troubling thing about this piece of information was why Cas was still MIA after three days? Three days. It was hard to come to terms with the loss of his friend in the shadow of such uncertainty regarding his fate.

"Hey."

Dean turned around slightly startled as the word cut through his thoughts to bring him back to the bunker. Sammy and Kevin stood at the entrance of the library. To Dean's great relief every new day marked some improvement in the health of his brother. Today, he definitely looked stronger, no longer using a door jam or wall to stand up straight against, his skin less pale, and his eyes less gaunt.

"Hey. Kevin. Sammy. Sammy, you're looking better," Dean stated flatly then returned his attention to the book in his hand.

"Yeah, I know. Thanks." Sammy then nudged the young man at his side with his elbow.

Kevin looked at Dean then back to Sam, "I really think it would sound a lot better coming from you. I mean, he's your brother and all. He'll just get mad if I'm the one to bring it up."

Sam assured him, "No. Look. Uh, I'll start. So Dean, how are you?"

Dean looked at the prophet who eyed him with a scowl as he shifted nervously next to the taller man.

"What?" Dean finally responded making no effort to hide his irritation with the two.

Sam repeated hopefully, "I asked, 'How are you?'"

Dean tossed the book in his hand onto the nearby table in front of him with a roll of his eyes, "This again? Ok, you know what? No, we're not doing this. This isn't a slumber party, we're not doing facials, and we're not sharing our feelings. We don't need to have any 'touchy-feely' moments. I'm fine."

Kevin quickly turned to Sam, "See! I told you. All he does is get mad and start yelling."

"No, no. No one's mad and no one is yelling. We're all just having a nice conversation," Sam tried to keep them on track.

"Right. Let me start," Dean put one hand on his hip and indicated Kevin and Sammy with the other, "What the hell are you two doing here? Sammy, why are you even out of bed? You're supposed to be resting! And you Kevin, I take it that the angel tablet is all translated? You know how to restore the angels to heaven?"

Kevin grabbed his notebook that Dean noticed Sam had been holding at the side of his leg and said, "Fine. You deal with him, Sam. I have to finish translating the _entire_ angel tablet. Dean didn't give me permission to stop and he is the boss of everyone!"

"Atta boy! There you go. We'll call you when lunch is ready," Dean called to Kevin as the young man stomped off toward the war room and the tablet.

"Real good, Dean. But you didn't answer my question."

Sam stood his ground looking at his brother keeping their eyes locked. Dean broke away from the stare to pull out a chair in front of him. He glanced once more at his brother before he sat down at the table and grabbed the book he tossed onto it. He kept his attention on the book as he opened it and thumbed his way to its beginning.

"Why are you so embarrassed to talk about this?" Sam asked moving into the room closer to his brother.

Dean continued to ignore him trying to stay focused on the words of the book, unable to get beyond, _"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…"_

"You have nothing to be ashamed of, " Sam offered.

Dean shook his head and attempted to get up to take the book to the privacy of his bedroom, but Sam with a unexpected push of strength on his shoulder forced him back into his seat. Surprised by Sam's display, Dean stared up as his brother with his mouth faintly opened. Sam then moved around the table to sit across from him. This is not going to happen Dean thought to himself as he stood up to leave the uncomfortable air of the library. Sammy settled for a second in the chair before shaking his head and jumping up to spin Dean around by the arm.

"What the hell, Sam?" Dean cried out, barely controlling the urge to strike his brother. He could see the concern in his Sammy's eyes, knew the anger and frustration he felt toward Dean were the result of Dean's own stubborn resolve to suppress any and all emotions.

"Listen to me," Sam began, "Please, just listen to me."

Dean looked at him tapping the book in his hand. His brother was using the last of the reserved strength he had these days to talk to him. The least Dean could was to hear him out. He nodded and waited.

Sam said with relief, "Good." Then started, "Okay, after the crypt, after what Castiel did to you, you were hurt. He hurt you, and not just physically."

"Sammy…" Dean raised his voice with a note of warning.

"Dammit, Dean. I'm your brother. If you can't talk to me about this, who the hell is there? Let me finish."

Dean nodded again and glared to his brother with a dubious scowl.

"With everything that's happened around us, these are our first real moments of down time. Kevin has been busy deciphering the angel tablet, Crowley's on ice in the dungeon, and Charlie and Garth are doing what they do best. That leaves you and me, finally with nothing to do, well, not until we know _what _to do."

"And…" Dean said with impatience.

"Okay," Sam nervously repeated then said, "Let me think of how to start..."

"What?"

Before Dean could make any more verbal protests, Sam continued, "Let's start with you and how you're doing. You're taking this really hard. You don't eat. You don't sleep. You walk around here like a ghost, out it half the time. I see what you're going through. I'm not blind, Dean. You're worried about him, and more than just a 'is my friend ok?' kind of way. You're really worried about him. And it's okay. I'm not going to judge you. In fact, no one here is going to judge you, or think less of you because of who you love."

Dean immediately pulled back and slowly pointed at his brother with the edge of his book, "You watch yourself, Sammy. Consider yourself lucky, you're too sick for me to kick your ass up and down this bunker."

Sam let out a pleading whisper, "Dean?"

"Got it?" Dean made it clear with the hostility of his voice and the look on his face that the matter was closed.

Sam breathed in heavily and released a sigh of surrender with a confirming nod.

Dean forcefully pushed past his brother and said over his shoulder, "Good. Now that we've cleared that up, we can drop it."

-x-

"You really walked all the way from Chino to Redlands?" Jefferson asked looking from Castiel back to the road as the car he drove headed for the city sprouting up out of the desert ahead of them.

"It took me three days, but yes," Castiel answered, grateful to the two oddly dressed teenagers who offered him a ride at the gas station in Redlands where he had stopped to buy food and to rest. Jefferson was about his height and weight with flaming red and orange hair covered completely in black including the color applied to his lips and the lining of his eyes. In fact, the only clothing the boy sported that wasn't black was Castiel's trench coat. At the gas station the boy called out to Castiel that he had a "cool coat" as he filled his car with gas. Initially the boy offered to buy it from him, but Castiel managed to trade it for a ride instead, once he discovered the two teenagers were traveling northeast toward Kansas.

Magdalena, the boy's traveling companion also wore nothing but black, and like Jefferson fashioned a variety of piercings and tattoos. She turned toward Castiel from the front passenger seat making a suggestion, "If you have anything else worth trading, we can drop you off at a pawnshop once we get to Barstow."

Castiel smiled at her mention of the familiar word, "Yes! A pawnshop. I am aware of their function. They were used heavily throughout the middle ages and the renaissance, as a means of borrowing and lending money. In fact, it was pawning her jewelry that allowed Queen Isabella to finance Christopher Columbus' first expedition across the Atlantic Ocean."

"Uh… Ok. Well, do you have anything?" Magdalena asked as wisps of her pink-streaked black hair whipped around her face with the rushes of air coming from the opened windows of the fast moving car.

Castiel thought for moment remembering something he had stored away in the deep pocket of the trench coat shortly after he first inhabited Jimmy's vessel. It seemed highly unlikely that after all this time it should still be there.

Castiel leaned forward to ask, "Jefferson, if you could please check the inside pocket of your coat. There should be a personal item I placed in there for safe keeping."

Jefferson nodded keeping his left hand on the steering wheel as he moved his right hand into the left breast pocket rummaging deeply through it, "I don't feel anything. Oh, wait…"

He pulled his hand out of the coat pocket and dropped the item onto Castiel's opened palm.

Magdalena looked at it and asked with a surprised expression, "Is that your wedding ring?"

Castiel could only nod a response to her as he looked down at the gold ring in his hand through the tears welling in his eyes. Dean. Again, he found himself owing his gratitude to Dean this time for his foresight, and for his sentimentality. Dean would probably never consider himself sentimental, but what else could explain the way he rescued the coat from the murky reservoir where the Leviathan broke free and then kept it safe moving it from the trunk of one car to the next? Castiel felt an intense warm feeling of hope realizing that Dean had kept the coat, kept faith that somehow they would be reunited, even when it was assumed that Castiel had died in that reservoir. He closed his hand tightly and moved backwards against the seat of the car barely managing to say, "Thank you."

-x-

Dean leaned against the headboard of his bed reading his book surprised at how it not only held his attention, but also kept him interested, kept him distracted really. Or at least, it was a good attempt to keep him distracted. Even so it was difficult to focus on anything besides Cas. He pinched the bridge of his nose then spread his fingers to rub his eyes. Six days had now passed and still there was nothing, not a single word. Why hadn't he come home?

Dean opened the book and read the same sentence for a third time. No matter how gripping the storming of the Bastille with the Defarges at the lead should be, he simply couldn't concentrate on the book in his hand.

A strong tapping on his door and the sound of Sammy's voice broke through the silence of the room.

"Yeah," Dean yelled out.

Sam slowly let himself into the room, "Someone's knocking on the door. "

Normally, the knocking on their door would be a thing to jump at, guns at the ready, but in the week since the falling of the angels, Garth and Charlie had both swung by with what they thought were promising leads in their search for Mrs. Tran or Castiel.

Dean nodded his head, "Go ahead see what she has."

Reluctantly, Sam pursed his lips and consented.

After a few minutes, Dean noticed Sam left to the door to his room open. Before he could get up to close it, Sam reappeared with Charlie in tow. The red head greeted him with her infectious smile and sat down at the end of his bed. Sam sat in the chair at the foot of the bed. Dean felt uncomfortable with the two of them looking at him in the confines of his room, but figured he deserved it for sulking on his bed like a teenage girl after learning her favorite boy band broken up.

Charlie offered Dean the manila folder she held in her hand. As much as Dean enjoyed spending time with Charlie, he hated looking over the photos she printed out on possible Cas sightings detected during her surveillance. Truth was, that although he managed to keep up a brave front, he was afraid that at some point he would break down in front of her after she presented him with another batch of false leads.

He looked at her with feigned impatience as he took the folder, "You know, you could just email us digital copies. You don't have to bring them all the way from Topeka."

"I prefer the personal touch. Besides every time I come into the bunker, I feel like I'm a member of the Torchwood Institute," Charlie batted her eyes ignoring Dean's light antagonism, "This place doesn't have a pterodactyl does it?"

"Right," Dean said as he opened the folder.

Both Charlie and Sam sat up a little straighter as Dean slowly searched the black and white surveillance photos from banks, parking lots, street corners, any where a man fitting Cas' description wearing a dark suit and a tan trench coat might be spotted and photographed. With every photo Dean inspected, Charlie gave him the city and location of where and when it was taken. At the last photo, Dean's hand trembled a tiny bit and he clenched his teeth.

He closed the folder and tossed it back at her, "Zilch, nada, nothing."

Charlie sighed turning from Sam back to Dean, "Sorry."

Sam looked with concern at Dean, "It's cool. We know you're trying."

"Anything on Garth's end? What's going on with the King of Hell?" Charlie asked as Dean began to thumb back through his book.

Sam nodded, "Yeah. Garth came by a few days ago and picked up Kevin. There's a maid matching Mrs. Tran's description working under the name Crowley gave us. They're headed for the Coco Key Hotel in Orlando to see if it pans out."

"As for Crowley," Dean chimed in. "We still have that Limey mook trussed up in the dungeon."

Sam added, "We're still trying to figure out if we should exorcise him back to hell, shiv him with Ruby's knife, or have another hunter finish turning him. We have to do something. We can't leave him in the dungeon forever and we can't just do a Free Willy on him either."

"Personally," Dean smirked, "I think we should gank the bastard with the knife and be done with him once and for all."

"Decisions, decisions. You boys sure know how to have a good time," Charlie said as she straightened out the pictures in her folder.

Sam stood up from his chair, "Ok, uh, let's get you settled in."

"I know where to go. But I might need a little help with my stuff. I brought everything I'll need to continue my search here. Because Mr. Grouchy…" Charlie said directly to Dean, "You're right. Topeka is too far to drive back and forth every time I have a few leads."

Dean gave her a fake toothless smile then turned back to the page held in place with his thumb and reread the same sentence for the fourth time as Charlie and Sam left his room closing the door behind them.

-x-

It took him six days, but by Castiel's estimation, he was more than half way to Lebanon, Kansas, the Men of Letters bunker, and Dean. The bus ticket from Barstow to Trinidad, Colorado had used up almost all of the $150 the man at the pawnshop had given him, and it took him as far as he could get without spending all the money. Jefferson and Magdalena had gone into the shop with him and helped to negotiate the price for the gold ring. The man had initially offered only $130 for it. Honestly, Jimmy was never a rich man and the simple wedding band didn't merit much more than that. Still, Castiel felt a great deal of appreciation for it as the bus slowly pulled into the station of the small city tucked away in the mountains of Colorado.

Castiel descended the steps of the bus and walked onto the parking lot taking in his new surroundings. A woman holding the hand of a small child followed him into the lot. The driver hopped down from his seat and opened a side panel of the bus. Castiel stepped away from the bus and watched as the woman took her luggage from the driver. A man came from behind Castiel to embrace the woman and the child. The three headed back to his car, then they and the bus pulled out of the parking lot.

Castiel sighed then headed toward what looked like the center of town. It had been a full day since he'd eaten anything, but the many restaurants and cafés along the busy street were the types of places that Sam and Dean avoided. They appeared far too expensive for the $28.63 he had left in his pockets. After a few blocks he came upon a convenience store. He paused at the glass doorway checking his reflection. It shouldn't have startled him, after all he had been traveling for many days in the same clothing with neither bathing nor shaving. He was immediately self-conscious, sure that if his grimy appearance didn't cause discomfort in others, the smell that accompanied it would. However, he needed something to eat and decided he would enter and leave the store as quickly as possible.

Although, his hunger was great, he purchased only one ready-made hamburger and a bottle of water, pleased that it cost less than three dollars combined. Kansas was the neighboring state, but it might be another six days before he reached Lebanon, and he had to conserve every dollar he had. He took a bite of the hamburger and sat at a bench that ran along the street right outside the store. The burger was nothing like those he had savored from Biggerson's all that time ago, but it was warm and felt good in his empty stomach.

After eating and discarding his trash, Castiel leaned back against the wooden bench in the cool late afternoon breeze. He closed his eyes and rested, glad to be off his throbbing feet. Once again, thoughts of Dean and his desire to make it back to him were all he could ponder nothing else occupied his mind for long, not the pain in his feet or that of his perpetually empty stomach, not even the fear of his isolation. He had to see Dean again, despite what anger he might still harbor toward him. Now that he had defined his feelings for Dean, he felt an incessant need to be with him. He had to have faith that Dean would forgive him and bring him back into his life. Castiel thought that he might not be able to endure being human without Dean in his life.

He would deal with that when the time came. First he had to get to Dean. His thoughts then went to his estranged friend's resourcefulness and tried to imagine what he might do next if he were stranded. Quickly, he realized that Dean would steal a car and simply drive home. That didn't help Castiel in any way, not only did he have no clue as to how to go about stealing a car, his was also certain he wouldn't be able to drive if he were to steal one.

The sounds of a church bell broke through his thoughts. He sat up listening for the direction from where the bells were ringing. Standing up and making his way to an intersection, he saw the tall spire of a church in the distance. Ambiguity swelled within him, reaching out to the church filled him with both anger and fear. Anger at the laissez faire attitude of his Father and fear that another fallen angel may have already taken refuge there. Running into another angel, was the last thing he wanted to do and had kept an eye out for them. He feared that they might know of his part in their expulsion, and that they might hold him accountable for it. With some reluctance he crossed the street toward the spire. At the very least, he reasoned, the church might be shelter for the night, perhaps even a change of clothing, and shoes more suited for traveling.

Castiel knew that the church would indeed be as far as he would get that day. Making his way to it proved to be more difficult than he thought. His feet ached to the point that every step was more painful than the last. It felt as if the blister on them were bleeding as well.

Soon he entered St. Mary's Cathedral and sat in the last pew closest to the entrance. The interior of the church was dark and cool. Castiel immediately fell at ease at the familiar scent of incense. He thought of how he would go about asking for help, of how to approach the priest. For a moment, he considered offering a prayer, but pangs of guilt and regret kept him from doing so. With a heavy breath he leaned against the padded bench of the pew.

"Emmanuel?"

Castiel froze. That was a name he hadn't used in over a year. Who in this forgotten corner of Colorado could possibly know him by that name? He looked to the left and then right before hearing the name again.

"Emmanuel."

He turned around in astonishment at the sound of the familiar voice to see the caring face of his former wife. She looked down at him with her hand extended toward him.

Castiel shook his head in hushed disbelief, "Daphne. How?"

"Oh Emmanuel," her eyebrows furrowed in concern on getting a better look at him.

"Daphne…" Castiel stood and moved around the pew to stand before her not knowing what to say or what to expect from her, he hesitated reaching for her.

Before he could say anything else, she lurched forward to embrace him tightly with a loving sigh of relief. She pulled back teary eyed, "I've been waiting for you for days."

"You have? How is that possible? How did you know I would here?" Castiel asked in confusion.

Daphne took hold of his hand pulling him back to sit with her in the last pew. She looked at him with affection and said with absolute conviction, "God wanted me to find you."

Castiel struggled to comprehend what that could mean. God had intervened, again? He could see no other explanation for Daphne to be there in the Cathedral waiting for him. Still how could He send Daphne after the last time? Castiel was flooded with another wave of feelings, guilt this time, so intense he felt the need to turn away from her, "I don't deserve your help. I abandoned you. When I left with Dean…"

"Stop, Emmanuel," she said placing a hand on his arm to pull him back to face her. "You didn't abandon me. You never belonged to me. You were never meant to stay with me."

"I don't understand," Castiel said.

"Emmanuel, you never slept. You never ate or got sick. You never even got tired. You married me, and I know you loved me, but not in that way a man loves a woman… I knew from the beginning that you were different. That God had a plan in mind for you, and it was merely my duty to look after you until it was time for you to do God's will. When the demon captured me, I knew you'd come and that I'd be safe, but I also knew it was the sign that that time had come. From the look on the green eyed man's face, I knew he knew you and that he was there to take you away."

"Daphne, I should explain to you what happened after I left with him. There's a reason I didn't come back."

"There'll be time for that," Daphne said with an understanding nod. "I still have your things back at the house. You look so tired. I'll take you there first. You'll be able to rest and get cleaned up." She placed a hand on his cheek with tender care, "I've never seen you like this, not even that first day we meet. You must be hungry too. You'll be well rested before we start our trip. It's not all that far."

"Our 'trip'?" Castiel asked. "Where are we going?"

She took his hand again and pulled him up from the pew walking him toward the Cathedral's exit. He resisted for a moment, until she turned back to him and answered, "God wants me to take you home."

-x-

Dean walked in to the cafeteria-like kitchen of the bunker. To the left of the door was the large industrial kitchen, directly in front of him were the glass and stainless steel serving centers blocking off the kitchen from the four sets of stainless steel tables surrounded by lightweight metal chairs. From the doorway, he could see everything was already on the nearest table, except the drinks. He walked to the large refrigerator and took out a couple of beers then made his way to the table where the others were finishing their meals.

The dinner was some type of chicken salad, undoubtedly prepared by Sammy. He helped himself to a small serving including as much of the grilled chicken as he could find mixed among the lettuce and other vegetables. Kevin had returned that morning and was in a genuinely cheerful mood. He had enjoyed an elated and tearful reunion with his mother, spent a couple days with her helping Garth get her situated into a new identity near his headquarters on Fizzles' Folly. Charlie and Sammy laughed as the young man shared a routine some comedian told about a weird roommate eating tuna from the can and playing the same song on the flute.

Dean only half listened as he ate away at the salad on his plate and drank the first of his two beers. The others finished before him and set about cleaning the kitchen. Again their conversation was lost on him as he opened his book along with his second beer. He became engrossed in the book as that evil douche Marquis Evrémond ran over and killed a peasant child with his carriage when he noticed that Sammy lingered in the kitchen waiting to get his attention.

"What's up?" Dean asked his brother.

"Before he left, Garth told me about a possible hunt in Louisiana."

Dean frowned at his brother, glad that in the past week he had a faster recovery than he thought possible. But still, Sammy appeared too thin and weaker than he had ever known him to be, "We'll get the next one."

"Apparently, a _père malfait _in a swamp in Louisiana is…"

"A what now?" Dean asked with a mixture of confusion and annoyance.

"_Père malfait_, think the bogeyman covered in moss. A couple of biology students went missing at a preserve. The local paper reported that residents claim they spotted the moss man and think he's responsible for the disappearances. The only way to kill it is with the sharpened stick of bayou gum. Garth says we can get bayou gum…"

"No!" Dean shook his, responding louder than he anticipated.

Sam stepped forward at the unexpected reaction then tried to calm his brother, "Dean, it's been a week and I feel a lot better. And waiting…"

"A week Sam? A friggin' week and you think that's long enough to recuperate from all the shit the trials put you through? A friggin' week!" Dean looked down at his empty plate then picked it up as he stood.

Sam nodded, "Ok. You're right. A week of recovery probably isn't really all that long a time, but a week of just sitting around waiting…"

Dean smashed the plate in his hand onto the table breaking it into three separate pieces.

"You don't think it's killing me!" Dean scowled then after for a few moments, shook his head with a sad laugh. He picked up the pieces of the broken plate and shoved them into a nearby aluminum trashcan.

"I can't… I don't…" He started, but instead of finishing his thought, Dean picked up his book, looked at it, and tapped its edge on the metal table willing himself to remain steady. He drew in a breath and said with an uneasy refrain, "Don't worry Sammy. Before you know it, we'll be back on the road hunting wendigos, shtrigas, and even moss monsters."

Sammy gave Dean a watered-down version of the bitch face then said, "Yeah. No, problem. There'll always be another monster, right?"

Dean sat down again and opened his book.

Sam watched his brother for a moment. Took a step toward him, paused then turned to leave the kitchen. Just as he placed his had on the door, Dean quietly said, "I _feel_ like a ghost."

Surprise and disbelief froze Sam at the spot next to the door. He turned back to look at his brother. Dean kept his face directed at the book but began to speak, "You were right. I walk around the bunker like I'm not really here. I see you and the others, but I'm not aware of what you're doing, or what you're talking about. I eat when I remember too, and when I sleep… Sleep is nothing but bad dreams of Cas falling, hurting, and sometimes dying. I'm watching him, and there's nothing I can do. And when I wake up, there's still nothing I can do."

Sammy moved away from the door to sit across from his brother at the table, not saying a word, just letting Dean say whatever he needed.

Dean looked at his brother, "I miss him, and it's eating away at me, Sammy. Not knowing if he's alive or dead, locked up in heaven or somewhere down here, lost and stranded. Maybe even on the other side of the world. I might never see him again and, I think of how I treated…" Dean paused with a weak smile, "Look at me, acting like a chick in a Lifetime movie. What would Dad say? Hell, I know exactly what he'd say. Slap me in the back of the head with a, 'Man up, boy. You're not some pansy-faggot are you?' like that time…"

Again Dean stopped talking.

"Wait. Did… There was another time?" Sam hesitated, met his brother's eyes and asked, "What happened?"

Dean peered beyond his brother and thought about the incident at Flagstaff, the entire incident. It really was his fault that Sammy took off on his own. He hadn't been neglecting him, but he had been spending a lot of time with the boy two apartments down from theirs. His name was Mike Torres, tall and handsome Mike Torres. He was a senior, 18, a year older than Dean was at the time, and he drove a '74 Dodge Charger to school. They met in auto shop, and the first things Dean noticed about Mike were his dark good looks with eyes so black they looked like marbles set against the whites of his eyes. Dean couldn't believe it when he offered them a ride to and from school everyday, and was beside himself when Mike asked him to help do a tune-up on his car. They spent more time than necessary looking over the engine with the hood raised, or under it on the asphalt of the apartment parking lot. Dean remembered reveling in the connection he felt with Mike, the comfort and ease of it. It was warm and inviting, and felt completely natural.

On the day Sammy disappeared, they had been in Mike's bedroom. Alone in the apartment admiring each other's naked body playfully kissing one another, then experimented with jerking one other then taking each other with their mouths. It was his first experience with another man, and he found it more stirring than any previous sexual encounter. There was an intensity to it he didn't understand, but loved. In that moment, he wanted to try to have something with Mike. Hoped against his reality that is was even a possibility.

Upon returning to his own apartment later that afternoon and discovering that Sammy had ran off, it was Mike that helped him search the neighborhood driving him all over town, hitting the homes of Sammy's friends and their after school hang outs. It was also Mike that his father caught sitting on the couch next to Dean. It had been four days, Sammy was nowhere to be found and Mike held Dean close to him leaning his head next to Dean's running his fingers through Dean's hair assuring him that Sammy was okay. Just as Mike suggested it might be time to call the police, John Winchester opened the door to catch them where they sat. Both Dean and Mike pulled away from the other and straightened up at the sight of Dean's father glaring down at them from the doorway. Before Mike could react, John crossed the small living room and picked him up by lapels of his jacket and literally threw him out of the opened door yelling, "Get the fuck out! If I ever catch you near my son again, I'll beat your faggoty ass to a bloody pulp!"

As Mike scrambled to his feet and ran down the walkway to his own apartment, John turned back to his son, "What the hell's the matter with you, Dean! You let that boy touch you? What are you?"

The words cut through Dean wounding him more than any knife or blade ever could, but what hurt even worse was the expression on his father's face as his father yelled at him. Dean could only describe it as a sickening combination of disappointment and disgust. Dean wanted to explain that they weren't doing anything, but John smacked him on the back of his head with such intensity it left a burning sting in its wake before he had the chance. He tightly closed his eyes, holding back any hint of tears knowing that it would only amplify his father's anger.

John raged on, "You're not some pansy-faggot are you! Think, boy!"

When Dean raised his head to look at his father, John slapped him across the face. The blow caught him off guard, be he managed to suppress any reaction. His mouth began to bleed from where a tooth tore into the inside of his cheek. Hesitantly, he stood up his head lowered holding back the tears and any whimper of pain.

John breathed in deeply in an attempt to control his anger, "Don't you… If I ever catch you like that again or even... I didn't raise you to be that."

It was then that John looked around the room noticing Sammy wasn't in the apartment, nor had he come out of his bedroom at the sound of the commotion in the living room. What came next was far worse than those first two initial blows once Dean told his dad that Sammy had disappeared.

Dean now looked back to his brother who remained still in the quiet of the bunker kitchen waiting for an answer. Finally Dean asked, "Remember my friend, Mike, in Flagstaff?"

"Yeah, he lived a couple of doors down from us, drove that cool Charger, took us to school in it," Sammy nodded. "You were really good friends… wait. You mean, you and he…"

Dean cut him off, "That day Dad came home, he thought he caught us on the couch doing something. We weren't, well, not really, but he let me have it, and believe me, he made damn sure I knew he didn't approve. Then when I told him I didn't know where you were, he smacked me around even more and I'm still not sure if it was because I'd lost track of you or for what he thought he saw."

"I didn't know. I'm sorry, Dean," Sam apologized to his brother.

"Don't be, you didn't do anything."

"But if I hadn't…"

"Stop Sammy, just stop. That wasn't you, that was Dad," Dean said with a heavy sigh.

Sam remained silent for a few minutes more before saying, "You can't let Dad or the memories of what he did or how he thought keep you from loving…"

"Sammy," Dean said, but instead of aggression, his tone now hinted of exasperation.

"Ok. Fine. You don't love Cas. You're not acting like a ghost because he's missing. And it doesn't really matter to you at all that you don't know if he's dead or alive."

"Of course, it matters to me. But, come on, Sammy. Love?" Dean shook his head, "I can't be in love with another dude."

"You know that doesn't mean anything, Dean." Sam continued, "That doesn't bother you about Charlie, or anyone else. Why when it comes to yourself?"

"I'm not 'that,' Sammy!" Dean shook his head.

"You're not 'that' Dean, you're not anything. You're just you. 'That' doesn't make a difference, not if you don't let it. When we find Cas, and I'm saying 'when,' not 'if.' When we find him, don't hold back, Dean. Let yourself feel whatever it is you feel for him."

Dean let out a doubtful grumble, but didn't respond.

Sammy thought for a moment then said, "There's something I need to tell you."

Dean considered Sammy's advice then asked, "What?"

"That day in library, Kevin was afraid to let you know what he found."

Dean shook his head at this new bit of information, "He found something and he didn't tell me? That damn kid! And he wonders why I get made at him. Well? What is it?"

"The heart of a nephilim, the bow of a cupid, they weren't trials; they were parts of a spell. Metatron used a spell to cast the angels out of heaven."

Dean clearly remembered Naomi's warning, "So, she was actually telling the truth. Dammit, Cas." He paused then continued, "I can't believe he actually did it. I never thought he would. I never thought he'd leave for good."

"Well, maybe he didn't." Sammy carefully went on, "The components of the spell are all interconnected with love, the heart of a nephilim, the product of a love connection, a cupid's bow recently used to create a love bond, and the last part… the grace of an angel who fell from heaven for love."

Dean shot up from the table and turned away from his brother. He couldn't let him see his reaction. That was it. That was the missing piece of information. Cas was somewhere out in the world without his grace, unable to return home. He could feel his heart shatter at the thought of Cas having his grace taken from him. How lost and defenseless he might be without it. Metatron, that son of a bitch, it was all his doings. It had to be. Dean couldn't imagine Cas casting out his own brothers and sisters from heaven and sacrificing his grace to do it.

Then, abruptly, the last word Sammy said hit him "love." Cas loved him. He always suspected the angel might be in love with him, knew he felt the same although he always denied it to himself as he just tried to do with his brother. He supposed it was easier for him to identify his deep connection with Cas as a "profound bound" rather than to face his true feelings for the angel. Perhaps Cas had tried to tell him, but he was too dense to hear it. He thought back to when they defied Zachariah making the attempt to stop Sam from killing Lilith. The angels chased them down, and the archangel Raphael smote Castiel for his disobedience. God did bring him back, but Cas had fallen. He was cut off from heaven fighting his own siblings, and he stressed to Dean, that he had done all of it for him.

He held back his tears, refrained from displaying the intensity of his emotions, "You should have told me, Sammy."

"We tried to, Dean. You threatened to kick my ass up and down the bunker."

Dean regretted his own obstinacy.

Sam continued, "Now we know Metatron had to be the one responsible. Unfortunately, it's also pretty certain that Castiel is somewhere on Earth without his grace."

There was no need for either of them to say out loud whom Cas loved. He wondered how long Sammy knew, who else might know. Looking back, it must have been clear to anyone who bothered to notice the two of them and how they interacted. Kevin knew. The kid did take his notes on what he discovered to Sammy first, knowing how Dean would react if confronted with it.

Dean turned to face his brother, "Did Bobby know?"

"Know what?" Sam then quickly realized what his brother meant, "Yeah, Dean, he did. We knew for a while."

Dean nodded with acceptance.

Sam continued, "We realized it back when we were searching for Crowley. After Eve told us he was still alive. We knew Cas was lying to us. _You_knew he was lying to us. But, you wouldn't accept it, not until we actually caught him in the lie. The look on your face when we did, it was pretty obvious at that point. Then when we confronted him about working with Crowley, again, your reaction trying to reason with him… we knew."

"What did Bobby say?" Dean asked thinking back to that time.

"He just wanted you to be happy. Although, he didn't think Cas would bring you much happiness. He never understood your faith in him."

Dean looked away and quietly confessed, "Neither do I, sometimes."

Sam slowly stood up from the table.

Dean closed his eyes and achingly asked, "Where the hell is he, Sammy?"

Sam moved over to Dean then loudly and playfully slapped him on his arm, "Come on, it's time to rejoin the living. Charlie's challenged us all in to a Tekken Tag Tournament."

Dean nodded with a weak smile, "Yeah, I don't know what that is."

Sam moved to the door waiting for his brother. Dean picked up his two empty beer bottles and tossed them into the recycling bin as he made his way to the door leaving his book behind on the kitchen table.

-x-

Castiel looked out the window at the plains of Kansas as the car rushed along the highway. Something new overwhelmed him, another emotion he wasn't familiar with. He was excited, even more so than he thought he would be at the prospect of being so close to a reunion with Dean. However, another feeling intertwined with the excitement, an intense fear that Dean would greet him with the same detached antagonism he used when he told him they didn't need his help. Still, he had to get to Dean, let him know that he was all right. In the event that Dean would still be angry with him, at the very least he would be near him and maybe even try to make up for the things he'd done wrong.

He turned to Daphne, grateful to her beyond expression. Not only had she taken him to her home, fed him, and helped him get cleaned, she listened to him. She understood, and even accepted what happened to him after he left with Dean. He let her know that when he arrived at the Northern Indiana State Hospital helping Sam required him taking on Sam's infirmity. He decided to leave it at that and simply told her that he had been separated from his friends and was now ailing in a different kind of way. Still unaware of how much Daphne knew of what he really was, or had been, he was reluctant to tell her more and admit his was angel who lost his grace. She asked for no clarification, and only listened with concern.

She looked over to him and met his stare with a sincere smile then turned her attention back to the road. They had been traveling since early that morning and had stopped only once for lunch and gasoline. Daphne still hadn't told him where she thought his "home" was and he decided he wouldn't ask. That it might be better to leave it in her and God' hands, but he couldn't help but feel relief when Daphne's car entered the onramp heading east on the I-70 toward Kansas City. Daphne pulled off the highway into a small town called Russell to take what she called a "bathroom break" and fill the car with more gasoline.

From the gas station Daphne drove the car north instead of east, and Castiel immediately knew where they were headed for Lebanon, the bunker, and Dean. He shifted with agitation in his seat looking from Daphne back out the window and the expansive flatlands of Kansas. Again, the feelings that overcame him were hard to describe or define. There was so much desire and happiness at the prospect of finally being reunited with Dean, and Sam too of course, but there was that undercurrent of that other heavy emotion. The one that made him feel scared and uncertain of how Dean would actually react to his return. He closed his eyes and breathed in the warm air rushing in from the window determined that he must get to Dean, and then let him decide what would happen next.

The quiet drive continued on for almost another two hours, and Daphne continued on her way surely inspired by divine providence for she never seemed lost or unsure of where she took them. She knew instinctively how to find the small road that led to the unassuming entrance of the bunker. She looked at Castiel before she got out of the car. He breathed in deeply opened his door, reached for his duffle bag in the back seat then stood in front of Daphne.

She met his eyes with a warm knowing smile, "We're here. Why are you so anxious?"

"Is that what I'm feeling?" He asked. "I wondered what it was called. It is a very unpleasant emotion."

"They are your friends, Emmanuel. They're waiting for you," she assured him.

"Daphne, I've done terrible things to my friend inside. He may not want me to come back."

"That's nonsense."

"What if he tells me to leave?"

"Then I will come back and get you."

Castiel shook his head and turned away from her, "I don't deserve your kindness."

She stepped forward and embraced him. Castiel liked the feel of her body next to his. It felt comfortable and safe. She had hugged him at the cathedral, when she said "goodnight" to him, and now outside the bunker, and with each hug, he understood why humans are so tactile. Hers was the first human's touch he had experienced since falling and the feelings it brought him were surprisingly satisfying.

"Be well, Emmanuel," she said as she stepped back and walked back to the driver's side of the car.

Castiel nodded, "Thank you, Daphne. I'll never be able to thank you appropriately for everything you've done."

She smiled, but still remained by the car. Castiel knew why she waited. He picked up the duffle bag at his side filled with the clothing she had saved for him, and stepped to the bunker door. With firm hand and a tightly closed fist, he pounded on the door with three solid hits. When he looked back to Daphne, she had gotten into the car. She waved at him as she put the car in drive. He waved back as she and her car pulled away.

-x-

"Oh, you are crazy, if you think Captain Janeway can hold a candle to Captain Kirk!" Dean laughed at Charlie as he moved about the wide kitchen putting together Italian sausage lasagna from a recipe he picked up on the Internet. It had been weeks since he'd cooked anything. He had forgotten how fun it was, how much he enjoyed it, and how much it reminded him of his mother and happier times. Since his conversation with Sammy the night before he did everything he could to break out of his funk, everything from playing video games with Kevin and Charlie late into the night to taking in the latest Star Trek film earlier that day with his makeshift family.

"Hey, Captain Janeway is like a mother to her crew. Wise, forgiving, but a badass when she needs to be. She would have outsmarted Kahn Noonian Singh with the aid of her trusty sidekick Seven of Nine, the hottest Borg in the Delta Quadrant." Charlie then added with a tease as she blended the butter and garlic mixture for their bread, "Besides everyone knows Kirk is nothing but a swaggering, overbearing, tin-plated dictator with delusions of godhood."

She looked over to Dean as he stirred the Italian sausage in a skillet. He winked back at her with a smile, "Nice. But, completely untrue. Okay, you're in battle, say against the Gorn on Cestus III or forced to go at it _mano a mano_ against Kahless the Unforgettable. Who would you want fighting at your side? Huh? That's what I thought! Captain James 'kick it in the ass' Kirk!"

"Hmm, true that." Charlie conceded then quickly countered, "But who would _you_ want fighting at your side in battle, say against the Borg or Species 8472?"

"What're you giving me with that? Kirk was a brilliant tactician. Balance of Terror?"

"Yeah, yeah, never mind that for James T. Kirk, the Prime Directive was only a suggestion," Charlie said with a snort.

Suddenly, beyond the kitchen, they could faintly hear a pounding on the bunker door.

Charlie put down her knife and looked over to Dean.

He nodded his head, "Yeah, give me a minute."

As Charlie left the kitchen to see who knocked, Dean made sure the sausage was done cooking, before he took it off the stove, placed it onto a red metal trivet, and turned off the gas flame.

He walked out of the kitchen and past the war room table making his way toward the entrance. He nearly stumbled when he caught sight of Castiel standing in the foyer of the bunker at the base of its staircase with a duffle bag next to him. The unexpected sight of Cas looking clean, although a bit worn wearing a pair of tan corduroy paints, a white shirt, and a bright red cardigan was overwhelming. Dead could only stare in disbelief.

Cas anxiously, shuffled on his feet, gazed down at the wooden floor and stammered, "I… I'm sorry, Dean. But I could think of nowhere else to be."

Cas was home. He was there, in the bunker with them. Dean slowly moved toward him, overpowered by feelings of joy and relief. Cas had returned to him and in that moment nothing else mattered, not the anger he felt toward him for all his bad choices, not the angel's prolonged absences, not his unanswered prayers, not the fact that his brother, Charlie, and Kevin were watching, or even what his father might have said or done to see his reaction. Finally, none of it mattered, only the intense gratitude to have Cas so close to him, safe and sound.

Cas dejectedly started, "I was hoping…"

Dean rushed up to Cas and pulled him in as tightly as he could. The relief and joy he felt washed over him in warm, comforting waves. He let the tears fall from his eyes openly as he held onto Cas, one hand between his shoulder blades, the other at the back of his head clutching a handful of the angel's tousled dark hair. He didn't examine or define his feelings, but just let them happen as he held his angel in arms. Then rejoiced further when he felt Cas returning his hug pulling him in just as tightly. Dean closed his eyes taking in the satisfying feeling of Cas' body next to his, the familiar breezy scent and warmth of him. Sometimes good things do happen, he finally realized.

"Are you alright? How are you feeling?" Dean asked as he pulled himself out of Cas' arms, but kept his hands on the angel's shoulders searching his eyes for an answer.

Cas turned away and stared back at the floor. He tried to step away, but Dean held him place, "Cas?"

The angel's tears suddenly burst into a heavier onslaught of painful crying.

"Cas, buddy. Tell me, are you alright?"

Cas brought his eyes up to Dean, "Metatron lied to me. There was no trial. Naomi was telling the truth. He wanted to expel all the angels out of heaven. The heart of a nephilim and the cupid's bow were parts of the spell, as was the last piece, an angel's grace. My grace."

Dean moved his hands to the sides of Cas' head using his thumbs to wipe away the flow of tears running down the angel's cheeks, "You're going to be okay. Do you hear me, Cas? You're going to be fine."

Cas slipped into a crying jag, "He took my grace, Dean. He bound me in a chair and used an angel blade to slit my throat. He pulled it out, Dean. He pulled out my grace."

Dean pulled Cas into him cradling him with his arms. Cas continued to whimper in a softer manner. Dean looked around to the others as he led Cas into the library where they sat on the leather couch at its end. The others followed out of concern, but kept a respectable distance. Cas leaned into Dean nuzzling his face into the crook of Dean's neck moving an arm across Dean's chest to grab the lapel of his blue denim shirt. Sam took a step forward and made a helpless gesture at his brother and the former angel.

Dean draped his arm around Cas holding him close as the weeping subsided into weary gasps. With his free hand, Dean motioned for the others to go. Charlie and Kevin quietly left, but Sammy turned before leaving, "If you need anything…"

Dean nodded.

When they were alone, Cas spoke. Dean's heart skipped a beat as Cas' lips gently brushed up against the skin on his neck with the utterance of his words, "I came back to you Dean. As soon as I could, I came back,"

Dean breathed in the clean smell of Cas' hair, "For a while there, I wasn't sure you would."

"I always come back to you, Dean," Cas whispered pulling in closer.

It was true. He did. No matter how many times he disappeared or left, Cas returned to him. Dean just wasn't sure how much more of it he could endure.

Cas sighed peacefully then continued, "Thank you for letting me in. I don't understand how I keep getting things wrong. I only want to do what's best. I was unsure you would forgive me this time. What I have done is so terrible, I didn't think I deserved your forgiveness."

Dean rested the side of his face against Cas' soft dark hair and said, "It wasn't just you, Cas. That douchewad put one over on all of us. Hell, I even helped you get that damn cupid's bow."

"Dean, everyday I thought about you and what I wanted to say to you." Cas pulled himself even closer to Dean, "I thought about all the things I've done to you, all the ways I've hurt you. The many times I left you or let you down. That morning here in the bunker you were so angry with me, now I understand the reason for your anger. I am so sorry for hurting you Dean. I will never do it again."

It was selfish of him in that moment, but Dean was glad to hear Cas' remorse. More than glad relieved that Cas finally understood how deeply his actions affected him. He held Cas tighter hoping that he meant everything he said, hoping that his days of leaving without even a goodbye, of not trusting him entirely were indeed finally over.

-x-

Castiel waited in the darkness of the hall leaning against the wall with his hands behind his back. A sliver of horizontal light shone from under the door of the communal bathroom. He could hear the sound of a shower spray. Everyone else had already gone to bed, but Dean had stayed behind to unpack Castiel's clothing and put it away for him as he changed into his pajamas and got ready for bed. Then Dean waited to make sure Castiel was comfortable in his bed before heading to his own room and then the bathroom. Castiel didn't want Dean to leave him alone in his room, but he didn't want to create another overly emotional display like he had earlier. He didn't expect for it to happen. He really didn't know how or why it happened. In the week since his fall, he had never reacted to his grace being stolen until that moment when he told Dean, deathly afraid of what he might do or think. Unknown to him, Dean already learned what happened from Kevin and the angel tablet. In any case, Dean's reaction was reassuring, and for now there'd be no more tears.

Crying was such a baffling experience. It was easy to understand that humans cried when very said or in tremendous pain. But the tears he cried when Dean embraced him were from neither sadness nor pain, but from happiness, incredible happiness. This was something unknown to him. Crying for happiness made no sense. Perhaps it wasn't happiness but sheer relief that Dean was pleased to see him, actually more than pleased. Castiel would describe it as elated. It was almost too much to hope that Dean missed him as much as he missed Dean. Castiel straightened up away from the wall when the water from the shower stopped. A few minutes later, light spilled onto Castiel as Dean opened the bathroom door wearing only gray sweatpants with a toiletry bag hanging from his hand.

He faltered for a second after catching sight of Castiel in the hallway then asked, "Cas, what're you doing? Why aren't you in bed?"

Castiel cast his eyes upward before looking at Dean, "I don't want to be alone, Dean."

Dean nodded then reached for the bathroom light switch and the hall fell back into darkness. Castiel followed Dean into his bedroom standing next to the chair at the foot of the bed. Dean opened the top drawer of his dresser and tossed in the black bag in his hand.

He looked at Castiel with a smile, "Let me just put on a t-shirt first."

"There's no need for that. That is, if you weren't going to wear one before, you don't have to wear one on my account."

Dean nodded then took his hand away from a knob at the second drawer. Castiel watched him as he went to his bed and pulled back the covers then indicated for Castiel to get into it. Cas nodded with surprise then climbed into the bed. Quickly, he became disappointed when he realized Dean wouldn't be sharing it with him. Dean sat in the chair opposite the bed with a peaceful, faint smile.

"What are you doing, Dean?" Castiel asked sure that his disappointment registered in his voice.

"It's okay, I can sleep here."

Castiel shook his head, "No, Dean. You will be uncomfortable. We can share the bed. We can hold each other, like we did in the library. There will be enough room if we hold each other."

Dean waited then said, "Cas, two men usually don't share a bed, actually two adults don't usually share a bed unless… It would be a little awkward if we were to be so close to each other. Well, I'm thinking..."

"Awkward? I do not understand." Castiel tilted his head in confusion, and was further confused when met with clear smile from Dean, "How would it be awkward? I find being close to you very reassuring. I want to be close to you, Dean. I like being close to you." Castiel asked in moment of fearful insight, "Do you find it uncomfortable being so close to me?"

Dean didn't say anything, seemed to think then answered, "No, I would be comfortable, but it isn't..."

Castiel waited for Dean to continue, but he only licked his lips and sat up a little straighter in the chair. Dean's actions were puzzling. Why would he hold back now? It was clear that they were both relieved to have the other back. Their reunion was everything Castiel hoped it would be. Dean welcomed him home literally with open arms. Then held him with such tender care, it felt unbelievably pleasant. How could he not want to continue that?

"You held me on the couch. Why are you reluctant to do it now?"

Dean thought some more, "I was consoling you, Cas. You were upset."

"You held me only because I was upset? You will not do so otherwise?"

"Look. I'm just trying to understand what 'this' is," he indicated with his hand between the two of them. Then he asked, "What do you feel for me, Cas?"

"You do not know?" Surely, by now he knew. How could he not? There was no grace filtering Dean's emotions. He had to know what Castiel felt for him. Then again, maybe he didn't. It was so like Dean to think himself unworthy of such devotion. Castiel couldn't understand why Dean had such a hard time knowing his own worth. How could Dean think he didn't deserve to be loved? He was the most giving, loyal, and true human Castiel had ever known. How could he not love this man?

Dean nodded, "I think I do. I just need to make sure _you_ understand."

"What I feel? For you?" Castiel continued with confidence, "Dean. I love you."

A notable sign of relief flowed over Dean's face with a small almost inaudible laugh, "You do?"

Castiel thought of a way to articulate the feelings he only recently understood he had for the man across from him, "Dean. I love you with such deep and true emotions that I am incapable of expressing them in words. I can only say that I want to be with you always, near you, always. I don't think I could come to terms with what it is to be human, if you weren't with me. Having you in my life makes it tolerable. I'm afraid to even say that it may have been worth it to lose my grace to experience fully what it feels like to love you."

Dean looked up taking in breath and Castiel noticed the man's eyes watering. He then nodded and got up from the chair and sat on the bed next to Castiel. Before Dean could bring his legs into the bed, Cas tapped his shoulder, "Dean, aren't you supposed to say something back to me? I mean you know how I feel about you, but you haven't told me how you feel about me."

Dean released an embarrassed shirk, "Come on, Cas."

Castiel kept looking for a response, but Dean only pulled his legs into the bed then sat with his back to the headboard, shoulder to shoulder with him. Still he didn't say anything. Dean gestured for Castiel to make more room for him, but the angel gazed into the green of the hunter's eyes nearly lost in the delicate beauty of his eyelashes. Castiel wanted to reach out and caress the hunter's face, touch the freckles on his face.

"Cas, you need to move a…"

"Dean?" Castiel demanded.

"Yeah?" Dean looked back at him that mischievous smile of his.

Castiel refused to move over to let the other man squeeze in closer onto the bed. He merely held the hunter's stare with an insistent arch of his brow.

"Fine." Dean first glanced around the empty room then back at Cas' waiting eyes, "I… I waited for you every day. It nearly killed me thinking you might not make it back this time. I know that… hell… I love you too, buddy."

Castiel breathed in a heavy sigh of relief. He could feel tears forming in his eyes. More tears. Again, these were the tears of happiness. Castiel nodded moving over letting Dean lie down and get comfortable in the bed. Castiel then eagerly moved his body as close to the hunter's as he possible could. He turned his own body to face Dean looking at him before resting his head on Dean's bare chest. When he felt Dean's arm fall across his shoulders, he brought up his hand to Dean's chest and moved his leg between Dean's. At that moment he was happier than he could ever remember being. At that moment he understood bliss. He closed his eyes and soaked in the pleasure of Dean's warm body, the soothing beat of his heart, the soapy fresh scent of his skin. But most of all he relished Dean's touch, so different from that of Daphne. While her touch was comforting and safe, there was something wholly different when Dean touched him. The comfort and safety he felt with Dean's touch were intensified and laden with a pleasing warm intimacy. He craved Dean's touch, to be here as he was in his arms, protected and loved. That had to be what he was feeling. Dean's love. It was more gratifying than he could ever have imagined.

-x-

For the first time in a very long time, Dean felt at peace. He felt happy. He felt loved. Loved, for who he was, who he really was. Lying there in the bed with Cas was fulfilling in a way he could never remember experiencing before. He thought back on what he had with Lisa, and how different it was. She had called their time together "the best year of her life" and although, he didn't regret a moment of their time together. In fact, he knew that he loved Lisa, and of course Ben too, but in a different way. But he always felt that there had been something missing. He hated to admit to himself what that "missing" thing was, although he knew all too well what it was. Now, holding Cas in his arms there was no sense of anything missing, just the opposite. It felt whole.

"Dean?"

"Yes, Cas."

"Is this what love feels like?"

Dean smiled looking up towards the ceiling, shaking his head always taken back by Cas' tendency to say the oddest and most unexpected thing at any given moment, "Yes, Cas. It is."

"I have a need to tell everyone how I feel about you. I want to tell everyone that I love you. Is that normal? Would it be appropriate?"

"Well, who do you mean by 'everyone'?"

Cas thought then said, "Hmm. I would like to tell Sam. Kevin should know too. That friend of yours with the red hair, she seems delightful. I would tell her too. I do not think I would tell Crowley. Sam told me he's chained in a devil's trap in the dungeon. Although, now that he is closer to being human, he may have a greater appreciation…"

"Cas, first of all you're not telling Crowley anything. Second, you don't need to tell anyone here in the bunker how you feel about me. Believe me, they all know."

Cas remained silent for a few minutes then went on, "I love holding you. Can I hold you anytime I want?"

"What?" Dean furrowed his brows, glad that Cas was enthusiastic about their being together, but part of him was uneasy at the thought of parading his feelings for Cas around the bunker. He knew no one cared, not his brother or his friends, still flaunting it even in the bunker, grabbing and holding Cas in front of everyone just wasn't Dean's way, not even with his girlfriends. Though he had to admit his reluctance came from the old feelings and insecurities that lingered within him. His father was dead, but the memories of his intolerant abuse and cruel berating for what he was had never gone away. As irrational as it may be, he felt the need to keep what he was and what he had with Cas a private thing, at least for the time being.

"I love how you feel in my arms" Cas pulled himself into Dean tighter and said, "When people are coupled, isn't it common to demonstrate it with public displays of affection?"

"Okay, soldier, slow down," Dean nudged for Cas to sit up along with him in the bed. The two faced each other, Cas slightly worried. He looked from Cas' lips back up to his eyes grateful to have him back but feeling cautious about one important concern he still had, "Before we start marching in parades or wearing matching shirts, there's something I need to know. There's something you need to tell me, that I need to be sure about."

Cas kept his eyes locked onto Dean and nodded.

Dean asked as calmly as he could, but knew his voice was laced with accusation and fear, "You're not going to just up and leave me again, are you?"

"Dean."

Dean continued, "I mean it, Cas. No more leaving. I don't care how you think it's for my own good, or if for some damn stupid reason you think I would be better off without you… because I wouldn't! I told you I need you, and I do. You can't do that to me again."

Dean could see the discomfort in Cas' face, but he had to be honest and upfront with him. He knew there was no way he would suffer through another unexpected separation again, especially not after being so open about their feelings for the first time. Cas seemed to understand and assured him, "Dean, I said that I would never hurt you again. I meant it. I know now what my leaving did to you. I will never leave you again, not ever. I promise you that."

"Good. Now that we've got that settled…" Dean smiled and brought up his hands and placed one on either side of Cas' face. He looked into the vibrant blue of Cas' eyes and continued on, "Listen, I love you. I do. But…"

"But?" Cas repeated looking nervous in Dean's hold.

"You have to understand. This is new for me too. I love that you're eager as hell about it all, but I need to take it slow. Kissing and holding each other like a couple of lovesick teenagers right out in front of everyone, is not my thing. I have my own hang ups about…"

"Dean, are you embarrassed by your feelings for me?" Cas asked and it tore at Dean's heart to hear the hurt in the angel's voice.

He quickly tried to explain, "No, no. It's not that. I'm not embarrassed by you or what I feel for you. It's just _new_ to me Cas. I've never done this with another dude before and I know it shouldn't matter. Hell, I even know that no one important to me even cares. It's just… I wasn't raised to think it was okay for me to… to have feelings for another guy. My father, literally beat it in to me that it wasn't okay. Please be patient with me. For now, let's just keep what we do private. It's what we do when we're alone."

Cas looked down and reluctantly nodded his head in acquiescent understanding. Dean brushed a thumb over Cas' lips then lost himself in the angel's eyes when he looked back up at him. God, he loved the rich blue of them, glad that for once after all their time together he could finally stare into them and feel neither conspicuous nor awkward for doing so. Slowly he brought Cas closer to him, into a kiss. Their first kiss. Dean closed his eyes and worked his lips over Cas' lips. To Dean's surprise, Cas responded in kind, awkwardly at first then he began to follow Dean's lead and mirror his movements with his lips and tongue. Soon Cas pushed even closer into Dean embracing him with his arms. Heatedly they explored each other's mouths, playfully pecked and suckled at each other's lips. Dean consumed Cas, devouring him, taking in his very essence and in turn he let go completely of himself, allowing Cas to enter his own being, to take every part him, opened himself for Cas to explore.

Dean pulled back then rested his forehead against Cas' still holding onto the sides of his head.

"You kissed me Dean," Cas said as he took hold of Dean's wrists.

Dean whispered, "When we're here alone, in my room, we can do anything you want. You can hold me, kiss me, whatever you feel like doing. I'm sure eventually we'll begin to do things in public. I just ask that for now, we take it slow."

Dean was surprised, as Cas broke free from his hold moving his arms around him. Cas held him in a tight embrace and whispered back, "Remember, I'm not going anywhere Dean Winchester. I'm yours, forever. Take all the time you need. We have all the time in the world."

He loved the sound of that and hoped with all his being that is was true, that nothing was lurking in their future that might take Cas out of his life.

Cas pulled back with a playful smile, "Although, I must say. I do rather like the idea of us wearing matching shirts."

Dean rolled his eyes then motioned for Cas to lie back into the bed.

Cas waited for Dean to recline into the bed first with happiness and peace written all over his entire being. Dean smiled back at him fluffing up his pillows behind his head. When finished he gestured with his hand for Cas to return to his position back on his chest. Eagerly, Cas moved in place as Dean grabbed his book on the nightstand.

Dean had to admit to himself that he really did love having Cas so close to him. It was something he knew he could not only get used to, but grow to expect. He opened the book and said, "Get comfortable, and I'll read you to sleep."

Cas nuzzled his head into Dean indicating he was ready.

Dean turned to a page he remembered recently reading and felt it appropriate to read again, _"You anticipate what I would say, though you cannot know how earnestly I say it, how earnestly I feel it, without knowing my secret heart, and the hopes and fears and anxieties with which it has long been laden. Dear Doctor Manette, I love your daughter fondly, dearly, disninterestedly, devotedly. If ever there were love in the world, I love her."_


End file.
